


Just Like Animals

by escritoireazul



Category: Skinwalkers (2006)
Genre: Biting, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Eating Habits, F/M, Hair-pulling, Oral Sex, Scent Marking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-12-28 20:17:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21142595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: Sonja fucks Varek before she loves him, but it is a near thing.





	Just Like Animals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlsarewolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlsarewolves/gifts).

> Title and epigraph from Fozzy's "Lights Go Out."
> 
> Thanks to my beta.

_When the lights go out the walls come down_  
_We sound just like animals_  
_Inhibitions lost and lines get crossed_  
_You get me off when the lights go out_

Sonja fucks Varek before she loves him, but it is a near thing.

He moves like a predator, like a threat, like a killer. He moves like sex on two legs, or four. Like animal rage caught inside human skin. He moves like a wolf and like everything she’s ever wanted to fuck.

They meet in a roadside bar in the middle of nowhere. She’s been hitting them up all across the midwest for a couple months now. Hasn’t run into him before. She’s sitting at the bar, drinking slow, savoring the anticipation. It’s getting late and people are drunk. Their tempers are up, and their lust. There will be fucking soon, or fighting, or, best, both.

She’s hungry, but it’s better if the meat’s seasoned with adrenaline, so she waits.

Too long. He slams through the front door, making it crack. Dramatic as he walks into the dark, smoky room in his leather, smelling of oil and gas and hot metal -- and wolf. Sonja lifts her head from where she’s bent over her cheap whiskey. Stares at him in the mirror, warped as it is, rippled and tarnished. Watches him come.

He scents the air, slow and steady, and his attention zeroes in on her.

She shakes back her hair, letting the slow turning of the ceiling fans carry more of her scent to him. The long fall of her hair down her back tickles where it touches bare skin. In here, like this, ready for the slaughter, she shed her coat and wears only a black cotton wifebeater worn thin.

The humans stir. Prey milling. There’s a predator in their midst, and though she’s played well at being the wolf in sheep’s clothing while she hunts, he doesn’t hide and the humans can feel the threat. They don’t know what he is or why they’re afraid, but they are.

It makes them smell even more delicious.

Sonja shudders. Drains her drink. Turns the barstool so she faces the room. Her face is bare now, her hair no longer hiding the gold bleeding into her eyes or the sharp teeth filling her mouth. She hasn’t started shifting yet, but it’s coming. It’s coming, and the full moon too, and all the blood and all the sex she needs to slate her hunger.

He’s on her before she’s swallowed the last bite of human flesh, but she’s ready for him. Rolls with his pounce, gets her legs around his hips and one arm against his throat. She can feel his dick hard against her thigh, and he drives his claws into the small of her back. 

She swipes at him, tearing five furrows across his bicep. The scent of his blood is heady even through the miasma of human death splattered everywhere around them.

He ducks close. She snaps at him, teeth just missing his cheek. Something like a laugh rumbles through him. He surges up, rolls them. She’s dizzy with it, but keeps her eyes on his, centering herself even as her body spins.

When he comes in close the second time, she kisses him, sharp and biting. He gives just as good as he gets, sharp teeth in her lip, claws scraping her body. He grabs her breast, pinches her nipple, sharp edged. She thrusts against him, rubbing her scent on him, her cunt on his thigh.

He bites the side of her throat, hard, right on the sharp line of her tendon. She fists his dick, holds him in place so she can slam down on him, taking him to the hilt. He fills her, tight and full, and she savages his shoulder, marking him with each bite.

She doesn’t even know his name, but he’s hers, at least for this bloody, violent, physical moment. She’s marked from him, too, and every time he licks across one of the open wounds, her cunt tightens and her clit throbs.

Sonya twists until she rises above him, one hand against his chest, nails digging in. He could throw her off if he wanted, but he grips her hips, sharp pricks of pain every place his fingers, his claws, pierce, and holds hard to her while she rides him, body undulating.

Blood is everywhere, coating their skin, filling the back of her throat, human flesh still in her teeth, but she can taste him, too, and grinds down on him, trying to find the right angle to get pressure on her clit.

There. Oh, there, and her body burns with pleasure. She shakes, holding herself above him, one hand on him, the other on her breast, chasing her orgasm, chasing that glorious kill --

\-- he tears into her hips and howls as he comes, his erratic thrusts enough to knock her back from the edge.

She swears up and down, tries to catch the right movement again, but it’s gone and he’s going soft inside her. 

Sonja shoves to her feet and stands above him, hands on her hips, fingers slipping in her own blood, in the marks he left behind. He looks up at her, dark hair slick with sweat and blood falling across his face, eyes hooded, satisfaction rising from him like heat waves.

“Fucker,” she snaps.

He laughs and sits up, body flexing as he rises all the way to his knees. He leans in, mouthing at her hip, tongue playing across her fingers, dipping between them to lick at her wounds.

She makes a strangled noise, and he looks up at her, shaking back his hair. His breath ghosts across her skin as he breathes, in and out, slow and deep, scenting her. 

He puts one hand on the back of her thigh. She needs no encouragement to hook her leg over his shoulder and push her hips toward him. He supports her, both hands on her ass, and puts his mouth to her, teeth and tongue. He’s enthusiastic as he licks her, slurps her, buries his face in her, and messy. She’s wet already, and soaking after just a few swipes of his tongue the length of her cunt.

He growls and it vibrates through her. Every time she shudders, rocks against him, shakes, it’s like she’s falling. She catches herself, but the tight grip of his hands on her ass holds her up, too, and she revels in that strength.

She whines, high and tight, when he thrusts his tongue inside her, pushing and pushing as far as he can, his nose bumping her clit. It’s good, wet and hot, but it’s not enough. Sonja fists her hand in his hair, and feels more than hears the guttural groan that rips from him. Pulls harder to make him do it again.

Uses her grip to guide him back to where she wants him, teeth and tongue on her clit. He devours her, sharp-edged, just past painful, and she rides his face until she comes, holding him hard in place, nails digging into his scalp.

He licks her through it, doesn’t pull back until she lets him. Holds her up until she gets her feet under her again. His face is absolutely drenched in her. She drops to her knees and holds him steady, hair twisted around her fingers, as she licks him clean.

They sleep curled together in the dark, bloody roadhouse, back to back, facing out to danger. She sleeps deeper than she should, sinking into dreams of fucking and fighting, blood and sex, body trusting him before her mind catches up.

“Caleb,” he tells her over breakfast, lukewarm flesh and alcohol over ice. She didn’t even have to ask.

“Biblical,” she says. She’s not calling him that. It seems too normal for what she's seen of him. Too soft. Too human. It doesn't have the bite she expects.

He smiles, lips covering his teeth. “Caleb Varek.”

She nods. Varek's good. Sharp toothed. Maybe, though, she'll save Caleb for later. If they get soft together. Sometimes, she likes that too, warm and slow. “Sonja.”

They eat. Drink. Fuck again, slower, on the bar. She rides him until she comes this time, once, twice, three times, before she lets him finish. Sits back on his thighs and watches him fist himself, stroke his way to orgasm. He leaves a mess on his stomach. She licks that clean, too.

He smells good, like her and blood and warm wolf. 

They don’t talk about it after. Get dressed. Walk out together. He’s got a big bike, black and chrome. She’s been hitchhiking her way through her hunt. She swings on behind him, straddling the back, her thighs pressed against his. The bike roars to life then settles into a low grumble that shakes her through.

Sonja throws back her head when he tears out, spitting rocks from the tires. The wind is cold and bitter against her face. Her hair whips around her, tangling. She needs this. Needs her own, that rumble between her legs, all that power and heat brought under her control.

Varek reaches back. Touches her thigh.

She holds out her hands, clawing the wind, and falls into his hunt easy as anything.


End file.
